Eagle
by MissKainHearts
Summary: Life itself is simple. It is we who complicate it. Human AU, human names used, and just incase bring a box of tissues for later chapters. I don't own Hetalia.
1. Photos

_"It is a cruel, ironical art, photography. The dragging of captured moments into the future; moments that should have been allowed to be evaporate into the past; should exist only in memories, glimpsed through the fog of events that came after. Photographs force us to see people before their future weighed them down..."_

_― Kate Morton, The House At Riverton_

The shutter clicks as the young man captures his umpteenth photo for the day. This time it was a pain au chocolat he planned to consume. After taking its picture he does a said previously, it was delicious. He got up and further explored the sights of Paris, France.

A click here, a click there, the young photographer worked his magic in every shot he took.

Sunset was fast approaching and the young man had busied himself with photographing the Chartes Cathedral. With one final click of his camera he hurried out back to the streets of Paris and into one of the many apartment buildings. Greeted by the familiar sight of an ex-guardian.

"Alfred, your finally back."

"Your city is really annoying to traverse Francis, did you know that?"

After being given an amused smile, Alfred walked past him unto the room he was temporarily staying in. With a sigh he collapsed on the bed and immediately fell into a light sleep.


	2. Memory

The youthful blonde rushed past to his study. He opened the door and immediately burst into tears. His face fell into his hands as emerald orbs poured rain in rhythm to quiet sobs.

A knock on the door was heard several minutes later.

"Arthur?" asked a silky voice, "are you there?"

"What do you want frog?" The youthful blonde answered (questioned). "To talk to you mon cher, please talk to me." The man on the other side of the door pleaded.

After several moments pass the door is unlocked and opened. Emerald eyes met turquoise in a glare. "Francis I don't wa-" before the blonde could finish the taller man pulled Arthur into an embrace. "Je suis désole Arthur. Je t'aimé, mais c'est un au revoir."

Tears formed in Arthur's eyes yet again.

**(A/N: I do not speak French. If there is anything wrong with that sentence please inform me immediately, I will go back and correct it. And finally review if you'd like.)**


	3. Flowers

_"Don't be ashamed to weep; 'tis right to grieve. Tears are only water, and flowers, trees, and fruit cannot grow without water. But there must be sunlight also. A wounded heart will heal in time, and when it does, the memory and love of our lost ones is sealed inside to comfort us."_

_― Brian Jacques, Taggerung_

It was a slow night for him. He drove slowly due to the medium rainfall the city was receiving that night. A slight buzzing noise broke the male from his driving trance.

He parked in the lane beside a park-like place and checked the caller ID. 'Ludwig Beilschmidt'. His brother... Why is he calling at a time this late?

"Hello? Lud, what is it? Did something happen?" He answered in a worried tone.

"Your late, what's taking you so long? I thought you'd be back by 10." Replied his brother. The silverette remained silent.

_I did say that, I broke a promise, dammit, _the man thought. "Gilbert are yo-"

" I'm sorry Ludwig, for being late. I'll be home as soon as I can." With that he hung up.

He laid down his head on the steering wheel of the car and took a moment to rest his eyes. Once he lifted his head something flickered out of the corner of his eye.

**(A/N: Here I am updating at twelve in the morning, to be honest I feel like shit right now but oh well. I reread the two chapters and realized how random they seemed. I apologize for this but eventually it will make sense (hopefully). And also for how ooc the characters may seem. Anyways I should get some sleep. Review if you'd like! **


	4. Photos (2)

"To photograph people is to violate them, by seeing them as they never see themselves, by having knowledge of them that they can never have; it turns people into objects that can be symbolically possessed. Just as a camera is a sublimation of the gun, to photograph someone is a subliminal murder - a soft murder, appropriate to a sad, frightened time."

― Susan Sontag, On Photography

That night Alfred had dreamed the same dream he had since childhood. An eagle bound in ribbon. The young man had always wanted to free the bird, but the dream had always ended before he could reach out to it. Once he was awake the smell of coffee and crepes filled the room.

"Alfred! Get up, it's time to eat!" With a groan he got up and changed out of his yesterday clothes into a fresher pair. He walked to the living room to see his ex-guardian sitting on the couch drinking tea and reading a random magazine. The blond brushed past him to the kitchen where Francis greeted him and served him a meal.

Several minutes later the blond from the living room came into the kitchen. "Hello Alfred, its been a while hasn't it?"

"Almost, they have been very pleasant though, Arthur." Alfred had kept a strait face for as long as he could while Francis conversed with Arthur for several minutes before dismissing himself. Today was his last day in the city of Paris, France.

**(A/N: Review if you'd like!)**


	5. Memory (2)

"Arthur?" asked a young blonde child, "Are you okay?" with a tone of worry.

The man in question looked up from his desk where he was doing paperwork. Told the young child he was fine, and to get out of his study because he was working. The child appeared hurt yet did as his guardian asked.

As soon as he left Arthur sat, slumped into his chair. Letting his thoughts wander to his once lover. Tears formed yet refused to fall. It was his fault that any of this happened.

"Francis..., dammit why? Why did I let it come to this? What did I do to deserve this?" The tears that had refused to fall earlier had come pouring out of his emerald eyes in quiet sobs. "Fuck... Please come back... You frog..."

Unbeknownst to Arthur, the young blonde child was on the other side of the door. Listening to his guardian's heartache.

**(A/N: Review if you'd like!)**


	6. Flowers (2)

_"At first, he talked about the flowers in the garden behind his country house in Surrey. His voice still had its Midlands accent but was soft now and barely audible. He knew the plants by name and took a few minutes with each of them: ageratum, coreopsis, echinacea, rudbeckia. The yarrow, he said, had rose-red flowers on two-foot stems. Achillea millefolium, the plant Achilles used to heal wounds."_

_― Frederick Weisel, Teller_

"Gil, thank you."

Gilbert smiled at the show of affection. He rarely ever got the chance to receive them. The silverette continued driving through the streets of the city, until he reached his apartment complex. The car parked in the outside parking. By the time they reached his apartment Alfred was half-asleep.

Gilbert chuckled at the sight of the him. He had to admit he looked cute. He guided the kid toward his bed where he laid him down to rest. Gil had sat himself in a chair nearby the kid and pulled out his phone.

He still had to call his younger brother.

Oh joy.

He inwardly cringed at how his brother might react. Unfortunately he wouldn't know until he actually called Ludwig. He dialed the number and waited. The phone was picked up followed by a very worried voice nearly shouting at him.

Once it calmed down Gilbert proceeded to explain that he had come across a friend who got kicked out of his house and needed a place to stay for a while. The conversation continued for about five minutes until Ludwig was called by someone else on his side of the call and hastily said goodbye to his brother. Gilbert hung up with a mischievous smirk on his face.

He looked at Alfred who was sound asleep, and before long followed suit.

**(A/N: This is the longest short I've written so far. They're becoming longer as we go. Anyways drop a review if you feel like it.)**


	7. Photos (3)

"All photographs are memento mori. To take a photograph is to participate in another person's (or thing's) mortality, vulnerability, mutability. Precisely by slicing out this moment and freezing it, all photographs testify to time's relentless melt."

― Susan Sontag

Alfred had exited his ex-guardians' household after packing and back onto the streets of gorgeous Paris. Hailing a taxicab he carpooled to the airport, preparing for the typical hustle and bustle that is to be expected of the said destination.

After he had checked a bag and gone through security, he finally sat down in the waiting area. Alfred had then pulled out his phone to make a call. Placing the phone to his ear listening to it ring until it was finally picked up. "Hello?"

"Hey Toris, it's me Alfred."

"Alfred! How have you been?! Are you still in the France? Have found a girlfriend yet?" He told him he was alright and that he was at the airport, and that he should be there soon.

They continued taking until the speaker had called the blonde's flight. He said his goodbyes to the old friend and walked up to board his flight to Lithuania. Where his friend was to get hitched.

**(A/N: "Good things come to those who wait." Whoever the hell said that anyways? Either way here is your new chapter my readers, eat up all of my hard work! Follow/ favorite/ review, it matters not I love you for just reading up to here! :3 )**


	8. Memory (3)

"Pu tain de salaud! n'était-ce pas assez pour me divorcer? Vous avez dû prendre mes enfants loin de moi aussi?!" Shouted Arthur who was on the floor crying.

A bottle of ale was thrown onto the floor joining many other broken ones. Arthur continued to cry until he became somewhat sobered. "That bastard, it was in the past, yet he can't forgive me. I'd take it back but I can't." He stared at the photo on his desk, it was him and Francis, smiling and laughing for whatever reason.

He got up taking the photo in hand, and threw it across the room shattering its glass. It had been weeks since the children were taken from his care, even longer since the divorce. Yet here he was.

He wondered how pathetic he must have looked.

All he had left was Alfred, though for how much longer he was left to wonder.

How long until even he left him.

Arthur dared not want to think of the possibility of his last child leaving him. But how could he not? Everyone else had left or have been taken from him.

How could he let Alfred go when it was his time to leave? The child had an such innocence...

Perhaps, he didn't have to.

**(A/N: I don't speak French, at least not yet, if there is anything wrong with that sentence let me know and I'll change it.**

**Review if you'd like, I wonder what is going to happen next? ;))**


	9. Flowers (3)

_"At first, he talked about the flowers in the garden behind his country house in Surrey. His voice still had its Midlands accent but was soft now and barely audible. He knew the plants by name and took a few minutes with each of them: ageratum, coreopsis, echinacea, rudbeckia. The yarrow, he said, had rose-red flowers on two-foot stems. Achillea millefolium, the plant Achilles used to heal wounds."_

_― Frederick Weisel, Teller_

"Gil, thank you."

Gilbert smiled at the show of affection. He rarely ever got the chance to receive them. The silverette continued driving through the streets of the city, until he reached his apartment complex. The car parked in the outside parking. By the time they reached his apartment the Alfred was half-asleep.

Gilbert chuckled at the sight of the him. He had to admit he looked cute. He guided the kid toward his bed where he laid him down to rest. Gil had sat himself in a chair nearby the kid and pulled out his phone.

He still had to call his younger brother.

Oh joy.

He inwardly cringed at how his brother might react. Unfortunately he wouldn't know until he actually called Ludwig. He dialed the number and waited. The phone was picked up followed by a very worried voice nearly shouting at him.

Once it calmed down Gilbert proceeded to explain that he had come across a friend who got kicked out of his house and needed a place to stay for a while. The conversation continued for about five minutes until Ludwig was called by someone else on his side of the call and hastily said goodbye to his brother. Gilbert hung up with a mischievous smirk on his face.

He looked at Alfred who was sound asleep, and before long followed suit.

**(A/N: Finally a chapter not being uploaded really late in the night (or early in the morning, either way). Thank you to all those who followed you are awesome. Almost as awesome as Prussia. Finally, review if you'd like. **


	10. Photos (4)

_"A great photograph is a full expression of what one feels about what is being photographed in the deepest sense and is thereby a true expression of what one feels about life in its entirety."_

_― Ansel Adams_

Alfred boarded the plane with no delay, as well with the takeoff. Few hours later the plane landed. He got off, searched for his checked bag, and called a taxi. Then he drove to Ignalina National Park*, where Toris had told him to go.

He barely exited the cab before his name was called by a familiar voice. Alfred had turned his head in the direction of the voice, and confirmed its owner. Toris. And Natalya.

" Alfred your came here after all!" Toris cried happily.

" Of course! Why wouldn't I?" cheerily said Alfred.

" You were busy with work in France." Answered Natalya.

Alfred gave a friendly glare** to his friend's fiancé before he was shown the way inside.

It would only be for a night. Then he was free from a hectic flight schedule. Free to go to whatever country he pleased. For a while.

Once he was inside he and was introduced to Toris's family and Natalya's, when a saw an unfortunately familiar face.

*^ I don't actually know if you can get married there, or if there are any actual buildings to go inside in.

**^ Is that even possible?

**(A/N: I am actually trying to make these longer, and this was the result of it. I wish I could have made the conversation between the three longer but I couldn't figure out what to make anyone say so I just stuck with this. Oh well. I tried.)**


	11. Memory (4)

Children play. It is what they know. How they enjoy themselves. It's just natural. And yet not everyone could receive such luxury.

Alfred watched the other children play on the playground. Arthur had told not to play around. To focus on his studies. Who was he to disobey? He was weak, very weak. Unknowingly, a fifth grader crept up behind him, and taped his shoulder. Earning a jump from his victim.

"Say what's a third grader doing just siting here?"

"What's a fifth grader doing scaring people?"

"Hey, I asked a question!"

"So did I."

The older looked at the younger and sighed in exasperation. "My name is Toris." The younger looked up to see Toris. "My name is Alfred. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. So what do you wish to do?"

Alfred looked towards the sky smiling at the gentle breeze and said "Will you lay here on the grass with me?"

Toris smiled and said yes, it would be a pleasure.

Toris sat on the ground and began making small talk with Alfred. Nothing of any great matter of consequence, especially anything about their personal lives.

**(A/N: Is it sad that I can't write more in depth for this story? In all honesty I have been trying very hard to make these longer, yet my need for simplicity cuts me short. Anyways, updating again very late into the night (or morning) and I feel like shit. And why is my iPad not cooperating with me! Damn autocorrect.)**


	12. Flowers (4)

_"She opened her sketchbook, carefully tore out several pages and handed them to Nasser-three detailed color sketches of three flowers. Leafing through the pages, he translated the message. A petunia: Your presence soothes me. A peppermint flower: warmth of feeling. And heartsease, the flower he'd given her so many times before._

_You occupy my thoughts._

_"I've been doing a lot of reading," Lee said quietly, setting her sketchbook aside. "You're not the only one who knows what flowers mean."_

_― Kaye Thornbrugh, Flicker_

Gilbert awoke. From the looks of it, it was most likely ten in the morning. He glanced at the bed to find it already made.

The silverette laid his head back in an attempt to relax.

Until he heard rustling in the kitchen. It had to be the kid.

Getting up from his chair he opened his to and walked to his kitchen greeted by none other than Alfred. Whom was apparently trying to make breakfast.

"You made pancakes?"

Without looking away he said,"Yeah, I uh..."

As much as he wouldn't admit it, Gilbert was taken by surprise by how kind this kid was. Not only that but he was pretty cute. Not a common combination amongst people nowadays.

He looked at the pancakes.

"Are they done yet?"

"Almost."

"Where d'ya learn how cook from?"

"A friend."

"How close are you two?"

"Pretty close."

All he was getting was clipped and subtly cryptic answers. This kid knew how to hide things. A few minutes of unnoticed silence later the Alfred finished making the pancakes. Once settled they ate in silence. Gilbert finished eating a little before Alfred, and checked his watch, before stating he had a job.

"What do you work as?"

**(A/N: This is a really lame cliffhanger and an otherwise good opportunity to make this longer. Problem was I couldn't think of any good ideas and I'm overdue on my uploading schedule so this is all I've got to give at the moment. Really sorry. :( Drop a review if you'd like and in the next three days I'll post a new **Photos** so stay tuned!**


	13. Photos (5)

_"The whole point of taking pictures is so that you don't have to explain things with words."_

_― Elliott Erwitt_

Ivan Braginsky.

The temperature in the room had dropped several degrees as the two made eye contact. Alfred knew why he was here. And he had all the right to be here. Yet that didn't help ease his discomfort. He gave a polite smile and turned to Toris he was talking to family at the moment.

About a few hours later Alfred was introduced and the ceremonial was almost done. As soon as the partying had started, Alfred had prepared to leave on his hopefully last flight for awhile. He had said goodbye to the bride and groom, now husband and wife, and wished them luck.

He was out the door when he heard his name called. Alfred had turned face to face with Ivan. "Leaving so soon Jones?"

The young blonde ran a hand over the back of his head, "Yes."

"I guess you must have work to do huh? Life as a photographer is not as easy as people make it out to be."

"Hey Ivan, I need to go. Bye."

The taller silverette held a look of disappointment, but said goodbye as well. And watched as the photographer left to wherever his camera took him. Alfred had called a cab and drove back to the airport for the second time that day.

He knew his next destination. He didn't know what awaited him there but he felt very excited. When he had gone through the process every airport insisted passengers go through. And soon after boarded the plane to his last destination for awhile.

For a moment he took the time to think about the well being of his family and wished good fortune upon them.

**(A/N: Well, here the good stuff is just beginning to take shape. I have a very faint idea what to write next. I know this is going very slow, but I like to take my time. Especially with stories like this, and unfortunately my apparent disability to make a prompt longer than 500 words. I swear I am working on it! Fucking ipad isn't helping either, cooperate with me for fuck's sake!)**


	14. Memory (5)

**(A/N: This story is rated M for a reason. Implied rape and thoughts of homicide. You have been warned) **

He should have seen it coming. He should have walked away when he had the chance. Yet he didn't. The moment he saw him, he knew something was off. That something didn't feel right.

He was too naive to he paid for it. The hard way. He even had the scars to prove it.

He sat up on the bed looking towards his "lover".

The boy was such a wistful person. Who, in the end, never got what he wanted. Why was love such a complicated thing? Why does it exist at all? For a moment, a thought flickered through into his a moment he wondered how it would look if he "colored" that person red?

Red was a pretty color that stood life, passion, love, hatred, revenge, and much more. But the thought was gone as soon as he thought of the many meanings behind the primary color. The boy remembered how there was a time when color was a very rare thing for him to see. He doesn't remember what happened but all of a sudden he could see color clearly.

But that was then this is now. And right now he was in bed with someone he would rather not be. Arthur was going to kill him for this if he ever found out. Or more presently, what was his "partner" planning on doing once he awoke. After all, it wasn't as though last night was entirely consensual on his part. A number of options flashed through his mind, the next no less better than the last. Thinking of possibilities on his fate was not helping him and he actually began to develop a headache from it.

Oh well, he'll definitely find out after his bedmate woke up. And he best prepare.

His lover was known to give judgement without mercy.

**(A/N: This was more lighthearted than I thought I had the ability to write. And for a rape no less. I feel that isn't something to be proud of but it just goes to show what I can do... Which is apparently making cute, lighthearted characters "mildly" insane. Like I said, just goes to show what I can do. ^^')**


	15. Flowers (5)

_"Flowers are the sweetest things God ever made and forgot to put a soul into."_

_― Henry Ward Beecher_

The question had completely caught him off guard. Apparently this kid had more guts than he should have given him credit for. But, what now to tell the kid?

The awesome him was stumped.

Who knows what kind of reaction would spur from the kid if he told the truth.

Who knows what kind of reaction would occur later on if he lied to the kid.

He wouldn't know until he tried. He inwardly cringed at the thought. Why was he such a nice person when all it ever did was get the awesome him in situations he didn't want to be in.

Facing the kid he said with a soft smile "Don't worry about it. It's nothing illegal." With that he left.

Leaving a fifteen-sixteen year old alone in his apartment.

Once outside and in his car he wondred if the kid would leave within his absence. It seemed reasonable. But then again, kids these days always craved adventure. He started the engine and drove off to his lawyer's office building. It was located in the downtown of his city.

On the way there he stopped at a flower shop to make an order. He had a bit of time before needing to meet up with his lawyer. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea but that that appartment needed a little life in it besides the kid. If he was still there.

The shop was small, very practical, but otherwise beautiful in its own right. He talked with the florist giving him a piece of paper with all the information the he needed. He took it and Gilbert had then went on his way to work.

And not a second late.

Now it was time to get down to buisness. He wondered what poor unfortunate soul he was getting assigned this time.

**(A/N: Sorry for the late update I have just started highschool and suddenly got busy. Don't worry I'll get this sorted out quickly.**

**In another note I couldn't help but smirk mischevieously while writing this chapter. I just love putting Gilbert in situations where he knows one wrong move and he's fucked.)**


	16. Memory (6)

_Inspired by Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol and the doujin Long November._

He was studying abroad. Arthur had earned a scholarship for a french college. And he attended for three years. It was during the beginning of his last year he encountered him.

He met Francis.

And got to know him.

Then slowly, fell in love.

They bumped into each other at a café. Francis approached him and offered him to buy him a drink. Arthur, thinking he was just being french, declined. However, Francis insisted.

Well he was offering to buy.

Shortly after seating with their drinks refreshments, Francis attempted to make small talk. Arthur, thinking he was just being french, didn't pay much mind to him. He just sipped his drink and starred blankly in Francis's direction. Twenty minutes later after dedicated effort the frenchman gave up. He finished his drink and said au revoir. Leaving Arthur alone in blissful peace

Two weeks down the line the pair bumped into each other again at a pier. And again three days later at another venue. And again one and a half weeks later. And again, and again... Until the finals came around. That's when he stopped seeing Francis all together.

He was supposed to be studying, but, he was too busy thinking about where in the hell that stupid french frog was. All those times he bumped into the blonde had been very enjoyable. That man had somewhat grown on him. Not that he would ever admit it.

They were far from being called "friends".

Yet they weren't far enough to be called anything less.

It wasn't until the day before he was scheduled to take the test did he see him of them were standing in the middle of the of the sidewalk.

"Where were you?" He asked. A sullen expression glazed over his features.

Francis smiled softly, " Did you miss me?"

"No..." Arthur began crying.

He couldn't stop them, the tears, from falling. He felt so sad, though he couldn't help it. The brit looked down and wiped the tears. And then...

Warmth.

Francis's warmth.

Francis was hugging him.

And the world around them disappeared. It was just Arthur and Francis.

Just them holding each other.

**(A/N: It's out of order I know. I just needed more time for the next _Photos_ installment. There's a lot of research involved with it. Anyways I read a crap ton of FrUK fanfics that this was literally a piece of cake to come up with. Hope you enjoyed it, drop a review if you want!)**


	17. Photos (6)

**(A/N: I am so sorry for the wait of this chapter! I've never written anything about love, particularly this next subject. If there is anything you think could be improved please let me know!)**

_Inspired from alteredegosinc.. You people are awesome._

Late. Late. Late. Late. He was so late!

Elizabeta was going to kill him with that god forsaken pan of hers!There was supposed to be a meeting to discuss the progress of the publishing agency.

The meeting wasn't supposed to start without him.

And he was an hour late.

Amidst his maniacal running, had he actually paid attention to where he was running he might have seen the kid with a really expensive camera. Who was standing directly in front of him.

Also not paying attention to his surrounding. They both fell to the ground as a result. The camera landing with a horrifying crash, but otherwise remained intact.

"Ow, ow, ow..."

"Hei, ești bine?"

"Da, și tu?"

"Bine, mersi de întrebare."

"Nici o problemă."

He looked up to find a hand extended in front of him. He took using the chance to give his stranger a look over.

Not to bad for a young one. Average height, lean build, dirty blonde hair. Everything that could atribute to a young, cute guy. Had it not been for his eyes. His eyes cursed him frozen in his wake, beatiful, but dark. He's seen much for his youth.

This dragă was a rare one.

Chances were he was already taken. Boys like him never stay single for long, they always had someone waiting for them...

Nevertheless, that wouldn't stop him. Vald struck up a friendly conversation with him. It went well for about twenty minutes untill...

the meeting. He checked his watch.

Oh for fuck's sake!

**(A/N: Could this have been written better? Of course, but I was too lazy to try. If there is anything wrong with the grammar regarding the Romanian conversation let me know. To the rest of you who has no idea what they're saying they are just asking about the other's well being.)**


	18. Memory (7)

**(A/N: This chapter is a very chick-flick thing going on with it. I'm embarrassed by how clishéd it is. However it is an essential chapter to help set the mood for later ones. Just trust me on this. **

**Also, some sexual themes are up ahead.)**

Shout out to all the 9/11 survivors. We won't forget you.

Paris never looked more beautiful.

But it did.

With Arthur by his side, everything looked more beautiful.

Walking up next to the broody Englishman, teasing him, watching him blush. Having him in his embrace, kissing his soft lips...

In his possession was Britannia's angel.

He had never had such a passionate love, it was like it was meant to be.

Is this what they called, true love?

France had yet again, birthed a new red rose. Perhaps, he was not as unlucky as he thought he was. Maybe, just maybe, Dieu was finally on his side.

But that's not what he wanted to think about right now.

What he wanted was for the rosbif to wake up. He wanted to touch him again. Funny, for some so uptight, he becomes pretty loose in bed. Francis couldn't help but want more.

"Arthur?" He called softly.

He didn't stir.

"Rosbif?" He called a little louder.

No movement.

Great. What to do now? His lover was still asleep from when they last went at it. He wanted him to wake up, but at the same time wanted him to rest. Arthur did have work after all. And so did Francis. It was probably best not to check in with their asses sore from their lust.

That probably wouldn't be a good idea.

Not only that, but tomorrow was Arthur's first day as lead editor of the most popular magazine world wide:

Micro.

That and being head chef of a four-star restaurant that would be serving some otherwise very influential group of people. The last thing he wanted to do was fuck up something he worked years to establish.

Oh well, there was always another time to have their fun.

"Francis...?" Oh, he's awake.

"Oui? Arthur?" Said person slowly opened his eyes, propping himself on one arm.

So cute, Francis thought. "Bonjour somnolent-tête." Arthur narrowed his eyes and smirked. "What time is it."

"There is still a lot of time before work."

Francis leaned towards his lover and kissed his lips. Arthur would wonder why this happened. How it came to them falling in love. Why had Francis stuck around even after how the Brit treated him when they first met.

As cheesy as it sounded, perhaps he had found true love.

Perhaps he had found 'the one', his 'soulmate', his 'other half', or whatever other cheesy phrase Arthur could think of. It was almost like he was starring in his own chick flick*. It was stupid. But at the same time, it was amazing.

He of of all people had found love.

True love.

Perhaps they found true love...

?

**(A/N: Gaaaahhh! I need to be doing my homework right now but then I remembered I hadn't updated in god knows how long, so here it is. I AM VERY SORRY FOR HOW CHEESY IT IS!)**


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